Freudian Slips
by TwinTwain
Summary: In which Max Caulfield uses god-like power to save the gay...day. Save the day.
1. Water, Water, Everywhere

Chloe strips without hesitation, and jumps into the pool. When she comes back up—skin glistening and undergarments clinging—Max wonders why it's suddenly so warm.

"C'mon, Max! Don't you want to get wet?"

"I already am." She replies, still staring.

The silence hangs in the air for several seconds before her brain catches up. When it, does she throws out her hand.

"C'mon, Max! Don't you—"

Without even bothering to undress, she plunges into the water.

* * *

I'd like to thank Reddit user Plantfieldunite, without whom I would not have this new 'Max makes freudian slips about her attraction to Chloe and has to frequently rewind to avoid embarrassment' headcanon. There's an image in particular that they posted on the life is strange subreddit which led me to this, but I can't link that here. If you really want to see it, the link to it is in the author's notes at the end of the first chapter on ao3.


	2. Practice Makes Perfect

"Whenever and whatever you want to try…for example, I dare you to kiss m—mmph!"

She's lost count how many times she has rewound this moment. There's a pounding in her head from the back to back repeats, but it's the pounding in her heart that concerns her.

Well, and the pounding of Chloe's. She can feel it pulsing wildly under her fingers…

But then Chloe backs off, as she always does. Her technique must be improving though: her friend has a glazed look in her eye, and the blush on her cheeks contrasts nicely with her hair. She really should take a picture, but something inside of her vehemently objects at the thought. Pictures are meant to be shared, to be seen.

She wants to keep this one all to herself.

" _ _Damn__ Max…so much for being little miss innocent. How did you get to be such a good kisser? Practice much?" She's even panting a little, which sends a bolt of pride shooting through her. It's followed shortly by a bolt of something __else__ when Chloe bites her lip.

It makes her feel powerful, reckless. Time bending god powers have __nothing__ on this.

"Only on you." She says absentmindedly.

She only has a moment to register the shock on Chloe's face before she rewinds. She feels guilty, but Chloe had never said she couldn't rewind at __all__. Just that she didn't want her to rewind to take the kiss __back__.

She's not.

She does keep it light though, like the first time. She'll tell her, one day.

Or better yet, __show__ her.


	3. A Father's Blessing

"So Max, what did you and Chloe get up to last night? I happened to come down for a late night snack and heard some noises from her room. Nothing too taxing, I hope."

She's rewound a couple of times while talking to William, but she still has to fight the urge to just sit and __stare__ at him—which is what necessitated rewinds one through four. She's finally getting the hang of it, she thinks, although her response time is still a little on the slow side.

She smiles. "We just watched a movie."

"Ah, now that brings back memories. I'd always come down early the next morning to find you two curled up in a collapsed blanket fort. I remember dreading the thought that one day she'd be bringing boys over instead of her best friend…" He says fondly as he smiles into his coffee cup.

She wonders how he would react if he knew that yesterday morning she'd kissed his daughter in another universe.

"Maybe it wouldn't have been boys you'd have to worry about." She suggests softly.

He pauses mid-gulp, gives her a sidelong glance. When he lowers his drink, it's with deliberate slowness.

"If her tastes in that category were similar to her taste in friends, I wouldn't have had to worry much, I think." He replies, equally soft. His fingers tap along the side of the cup in a steady rhythm.

"You wouldn't have minded?" Her voice falters halfway through, betraying her.

"Between you and me, I've always had trouble picturing her as a bride…I think given the choice she'd prefer a tux." He smirks, and then reaches over to ruffle her hair, just like he used to. " _ _You__ , on the other hand, would look wonderful in a wedding dress."

She smiles, but her heart aches painfully.

She knows that in Chloe's fantasies, Rachel is the one wearing a dress.


	4. The Naked Truth

"I'm __soooo__ sorry, I had no idea that you just got out of the shower and I wanted to show you this really cool picture I took—"

"Max," Chloe interrupts, tone surprisingly even given her nudity "your nose is bleeding. Like, a lot."

She brings her hand up, and __wow__ , that is a lot of blood.

"You got anything you want to tell me?"

Abandoning the act, she makes one last slow sweep from head to toe, and then looks her straight in the eye.

"I regret __nothing__."

And then she rewinds.


	5. Jane Doe

"Who is this?"

This is her third time being invited over, which—as everyone knows—is the number that signifies they're past the awkward first stages of friendship. As such, she feels comfortable poking around in Chloe's things while her friend lights up.

That's when she comes across the photograph, nestled in a tin box in the closet. Two girls smile beneath a tree. One is obviously a pre-dyed Chloe, but the freckled face is a mystery.

The blue haired punk takes one look at it, plucks it from her fingers, and flings it across the room. It disappears behind the dresser next to the bed.

"Nobody." She finally replies, eyes set into a hard stare.

Frowning, she walks over to the chipping furniture and gets down on her knees to see if it fell all the way to the floor. There's nothing but dust. Somehow or another it must have managed to get perfectly wedged between the dresser and the wall.

"Don't bother trying to get it, Rachel. That dresser is old, heavy, and bound to give anyone trying to move it a splinter. Besides, it's just a stupid picture. Not worth the effort."

She lets it go, not willing to push. But it bothers her, and she files the picture in the back of her mind for later.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

A week later she knocks on the Price's front door and is let in by Joyce with a smile. Upon entering, a muffled voice rings out from the garage.

"Joyce! Where are the goddamn tweezers?!"

Joyce's smile turns strained.

"Go on up hun. Chloe will be with you in a moment."

She heads upstairs quickly, wanting to avoid the argument she knows will be starting. She's not exactly sure why Chloe is so willing to butt heads with her mother, or why she insists on calling her by her first name, but they're not close enough yet to breach that subject. There's a lot of that with Chloe, she's begun to realize. It's somewhat alarming; she can seem so open and simple one second, and then completely closed off and enigmatic the next.

But, truth be told, that's not the only reason she hurries.

When Chloe joins her six minutes later, Rachel doesn't ask about the Band-Aids on her hands. She doesn't ask about the tell-tale scratch marks that mar the floorboards around the dresser.

She doesn't ask about the picture, returned safely to the tin box she'd found it in.

* * *

This chapter is now obsolete thanks to Before the Storm. Oh well!


	6. Saving Throws

"As soon as you enter the stronghold, you find yourselves surrounded by a group of heavily armed guards. One of them bears the insignia of the king on his chest piece, and is clearly in charge of the rest. He steps forward and raises his sword, only to stop when a voice calls out. A young, handsome man enters the circle, an ornate sword strapped to his side. His eyes scan your party briefly, eventually landing and settling on Maxima."

" 'I sincerely apologize for the unfriendly welcome, my dear.' He says smoothly. 'I'm afraid we're not used to—' "

"I jump forward and give him a flying kick in the nuts." Chloe interrupts, mouth stretched into an evil grin.

Warren blinks. "He's wearing __armor__."

"I know. Good thing I paid Ekaterina to give my boots the 'penetrate' enchant last time we were in town." She nods toward Kate, who bites her lip and mouths __I'm sorry__ to Warren when Chloe looks away.

"It's pierce, Chloe. Not penetrate." Max pitches in, rolling her eyes. Honestly…

"Why are you even kicking him in the nuts in the first place? For all you know, he's about to offer to __help__ you!" Warren's trying his best to keep his cool, but Chloe's constant derailments are starting to get to him. Max can tell by the frantic way he scribbles into his notes.

She probably should have expected this; Chloe hates being told what to do. Apparently that extends past real life and into role play.

"I think it's obvious who he __really__ wants to help. It's only fair to let him know this is a girl's only adventure."

" _ _Fine.__ Roll for hit."

Chloe rolls her d20, and curses at the result. Warren looks positively ecstatic.

"Eliza's __completely__ unnecessary flying kick misses, and she lands in an embarrassing heap on the floor. The guards laugh, and—"

"Max! Rewind!" Chloe demands, eyes burning.

"Chloe, that's a total waste of my powers. I can't rewind every time you—"

Her eyes turn pleading, and Max sighs.

"I cast Time Regression, and rewind the last thirty seconds."

Warren's head is in his hands. He looks like he might cry. Kate pats his back gently, seemingly unsure what to do.

"I should never have let Max play a Time Mage" he groans. "Chloe, one of these sessions you're going to make a rash mistake and get your character killed. And Max won't be there to rewind it."

The statement hits a little __too__ close to home. She can feel the blood drain from her face, and her eyes seek Chloe's frantically. Behind her back, shaking fists clench the edge of her shirt.

Chloe handles it much better than she does. Her expression, seconds ago smug, is now solemn. Her eyes are steady, sure.

"Max is always there when I need her."

She says it with complete confidence, like there isn't even a doubt. Like, once upon a time, Max hadn't let her die right in front of her.

"And I'll always be there when she need me."

As quickly as it came the tension oozes out of her, with Warren and Kate none the wiser. Chloe keeps their eyes locked for another moment before she sighs and throws her head up toward the ceiling.

"But you're right. It's not fair to burden Max with saving my butt. No matter how nice it is, or how many times I offer to let her cop a feel as a reward. Kate, put those maxed out diplomacy skills to use..."


	7. Good Ending

They're lying on a hill, side by side. It's a beautiful day: sunshine, clouds, a cool breeze—it's almost __too__ perfect. That there can be a day like this after all of the craziness…it feels wrong. Not that they don't __deserve__ a nice day or two after all the crap they went through—they do—but it makes those hellish days seem so distant. Like maybe they never really happened at all.

Except they definitely did. The torn apart town and indefinite closing of Blackwell prove it. She's sure that there's a perfect metaphor buried somewhere in the wreckage that could explain it, but for once she has no desire to start digging for it. She'd much rather relax and enjoy the peace. She only hopes that it lasts.

It doesn't.

"Hey Max…you ever think about how you want to die?" Chloe asks.

Pictures flash through her mind. Chloe bleeding out on the bathroom floor. Chloe smeared across train tracks. Chloe's head rocking back, eyes unfocused as a bullet passes through her forehead.

She opens her eyes wide, staring into the sun until the pain is overwhelming—until all she can see is white, inside and out. She can feel her hands shaking. Chloe grabs one in her own and threads their fingers together, runs a thumb along the side of her hand.

" _ _Shit.__ Sorry, I…I didn't mean to bring up—I just—" she takes a deep breath, and lets out a nervous laugh "I want you to know. If I died right now, I'd be happy. I never could have said that before. But I can now. Because of you."

She doesn't say anything—she can't find the words. Instead she rolls over onto Chloe and rests her head against her chest. She listens to the steady thumps of heartbeat as Chloe runs a hand through her hair.

If she could choose how she died…

 _ _I want to die before you.__

* * *

This chapter was written before episode five came out, so it's also obsolete. I had tried to guess what would happen, while also trying to be as general as possible. That being said, it's not too far off from being possible in the event you chose Chloe.


	8. Pest Control

She blinks as everything comes into focus, the view of a giant hurricane in the midst of destroying a town replaced by the girl's bathroom. She watches as the butterfly takes flight, flapping along without a care in the world, just like it did the first time.

That is, until it finds itself plucked out of midair by her pinched fingers.

"I'm sorry. Do you have somewhere you need to be?" She asks, tone sugar sweet.

The butterfly naturally doesn't say a word, but if its frantic attempts to flap its wings are any indication, it's seen through her completely lackluster attempt at acting.

"I'm afraid I can't let you go just yet. We're going to have a __niiiiice__ little talk, right after Nathan and Chloe come in and get spooked by the fire alarm I'll be setting off. Kay?" She smiles, and the butterfly redoubles its efforts to squirm out of her grip.

A second later Nathan barges in and starts going through his little rant. Max entertains herself in the meantime by using the hand not holding the butterfly to mimic a mouth, and rolls her eyes as she has it sync up with Nathan's tirade.

Luckily she doesn't have to wait long before Chloe shows up. Without even bothering to let them get into the conversation she pulls the handle of the alarm, turning to look at the captive insect in her fingers as the two quickly leave.

"Now," she says as soon as the door shuts "we only have a few moments before time flashes forward and I'm back at the lighthouse. Let's have a chat. About how you and the universe want to kill Chloe"

The grin that breaks out on her face is absolutely predatory.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Two days after the destruction of Arcadia Bay, the butterfly shows back up. It lands on the steering wheel of Chloe's truck, flying through the open window while they are stopped at a gas station. Chloe is currently inside, buying more cigarettes.

It seems very pleased with itself. She can almost hear it.

 _ _It is not over. She will die, and you can't stop it.__

Without breaking eye contact, she reaches behind her.

And pulls out a flyswatter.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Its next visit is weeks later. This time, it stays just outside of her reach—perching on the branch of a tree that Chloe has parked near.

How adorable. It's learning.

"Max, can you hand me the wrench?" Chloe grunts, currently underneath her truck.

"Sure." She grabs the tool and places it on the ground, sliding it under the truck toward Chloe with her foot.

"Thanks."

"My pleasure." She replies, digging through the large purse she'd bought just a couple days ago. After a couple seconds of shifting other things aside, she nods and grabs out a match box.

Without taking her eyes off of the butterfly she moves until she is almost directly underneath the branch it rests on. She then takes out a match and lights it with a quick strike across the box, holding it up toward the branch. Reaching into her coat, she pulls out a bottle of hairspray and dexterously pops the top off with her thumb.

A moment later Chloe slides out from underneath her truck, rubbing her hands on her jeans. "Hey Max, I think we're good to—HOLY SHIT THAT TREE IS ON FIRE!"

"Oh no." Max says blandly.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Six months down the road, under the cover of darkness, the butterfly slips under the door to their hotel room and lands on the dresser situated as far away from the bed as possible. It should be safe—the two are fast asleep, curled up together—but after the flamethrower it's not taking its eyes off the small one. It flaps its wings twice, pondering what natural disaster to send after the one that cheated death. It momentarily contemplates a volcanic eruption…the small one is certainly dangerous enough to warrant it…

A loud thump sounds off behind it, causing it to turn in surprise.

A large lizard looks down at it, tongue flicking in and out of its mouth rapidly. It looks hungry.

"Good boy, Butternibble" Max sleepily mumbles into Chloe's chest.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Three years have passed. It has cautiously made its way closer, keeping itself vigilant. After weeks and weeks of prolonged scouting, it has finally decided to get within hearing distance.

"Max, are you sure __that's__ the hobby you want to pick up? Seems kinda…morbid."

"Lepidoptery is a fascinating field! I can't wait to start collecting specimens!"

Maybe it would wait a little longer before trying again. Seventy years would probably be safe...

* * *

Needless to say, I wasn't feeling very generous toward butterflies after episode 5...


	9. High Roller

Chloe, ever the brave one, is the first to break the silence.

"How many people do you think..." she breaks off, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turn white.

Max doesn't know. Before she left, the population had been somewhere around one thousand two hundred. She has no idea if that number had gone down or up in the five years she's been away. All she knows is that there's been no sign of anyone since they rode through the town. The odds of nobody making it out are astronomically small, but this hadn't been an ordinary storm.

Does it really even matter, in the end? What number of people would be considered an acceptable sacrifice for Chloe's life? Four? Twenty? Seven hundred? When she made her choice, she'd done so accepting the possibility that the two of them would be the only ones left standing. She loved Arcadia, and most of the people in it.

But she loves Chloe more.

So if the universe ever decides to chase its loss—to once again gamble against her with Chloe's life as the prize—there's no limit to the number of lives she'll bet just for the chance to roll the dice. She'll do it without a second thought.

If the universe won't let her be a hero, it can't blame her for playing the villain.


	10. Exposure

Victoria's not __supposed__ to be in Blackwell after hours, but being acquaintances with Nathan Prescott has its perks. A simple name drop had dispersed the security guards, one of them even being so kind as to unlock the entrance for her.

It's not as if she's here to do anything criminal, anyway. She just left her camera in Mr. Jefferson's classroom. There's no way in hell that she's going to leave it there overnight; besides how expensive it was, it holds her entry for the "Everyday Heroes" contest. She has no doubt that there are plenty of students jealous enough of her talent (though they have every right to be) to sabotage it if given the chance. She can't allow that to happen, no matter how small the possibility.

If __anyone__ is going to get some alone time with Mr. Jefferson, it's going to be __her__. By the time she's through with him, he'll never want to take a picture of anyone but her.

She's nearing the room in question when a flash briefly appears in the door's window, throwing lances of light into the hallway. She briefly hesitates, only to hear a voice she recognizes whisper loudly from inside.

"— _ _keep your voice down. If we get caught..."__

Max Caulfield. Little Miss Selfie Suck-Up herself.

" _ _And whose fault would that be?!"__ A second one hisses back. _"_ _ _You've been trying to get the 'perfect picture' for the last ten minutes! Just finish up already so we can go back to my place! You can take as many photos as you want there!"__

She knows __that__ voice too. Chloe Price may have been kicked out of Blackwell a year ago, but she's still well known by the student body. Normally a punk like her wouldn't be considered worth remembering, but her connection to Rachel Amber had gained her a bit of notoriety—even before the disappearance. Everyone had wanted to be close to Rachel, and the mystery of why she had chosen to stay friends with a burnout like Price had naturally made people curious.

" _ _I know, I know. I've almost got the angle right. Just one more—"__

A fury settles over her quickly. If Max so much as __touched__ her camera...

With a scowl that makes most of her peers cower in fear she storms forward, heels clicking loudly against the tiles. A second before she surges through the door she hears a curse.

 _ _It's too late to hide, Maxine__ she thinks as she enters the room and turns her head toward the back of the classroom.

To find Max Caulfield's back. Her __bare__ back. Sans shirt, sans bra. But that's not all. Because behind Max, just barely blocked by her scrawny body, is Chloe Price. Just as naked above the waist but facing forward, currently staring at her with eyes wide open in surprise.

With two quick flashes, the camera set up on a tripod across the room records the moment.

For once, no words present themselves. No catty remarks, no bitchy insults. She's absolutely frozen, with no idea of how to move forward.

Apparently, Max does not have the same issue. With a single fluid motion she swivels her head to look at her over her right shoulder.

"This is __exactly__ what it looks like." She says with a confidence that—in any other circumstance—might impress her.

With a shake of her head she walks briskly past the two, grabs her camera from the top of her desk, and speeds out of the room with as much grace as possible.


	11. Chapter 11

Rachel appears to her in a dream the night they leave Arcadia behind. She shines so bright that it hurts to look at her, but Chloe can't stop staring. There's so much she wants to tell her, so much she wants to say.

"Rachel, I…"

She's interrupted by a bark in the distance, followed shortly by a raucous laugh. Past Rachel, she can see two dark outlines—one tall, one small—waiting just beyond a curtain of fog.

When she turns her attention back to Rachel, it's to find her with an apologetic expression on her face.

"I'm sorry." She says.

Surprisingly, it doesn't hurt.

There's no fresh wave of betrayal, no anger, no jealousy. All she feels is a very dull ache in her rib-cage, like pressing on a three day old bruise.

"Just can't help yourself, can you?" She sighs, eyebrow raised. Rachel's face shifts, turning sheepish. She can't help the grin that tries to break out on her own face at the sight.

"Jeez, I can't even dream about you without Mister Beans getting in the way. Guess I was just a stand in after all." She scoffs and crosses her arms, feigning irritation. Just because she doesn't actually __feel__ as slighted as she'd thought she'd be doesn't mean Rachel gets a free pass for lying to her.

"I could say the same thing, I think." Rachel says with a knowing smile. She can see that there's sadness in it to.

There's no point in denying it. Rachel had always been gifted at reading people—it was part of what made her so universally likable. She always seemed to know exactly what made everyone tick, how to use that knowledge to ingratiate herself with them. She'd probably known since the beginning, since she'd found a picture of two girls beneath a tree and started asking (with annoying and persistent regularity) who the freckled one was. "I guess…I guess we both used each other."

"A little." Rachel admits with a nod. "But I really do care about you Chloe, and I always have. I want you to be happy."

"I am." She says, and means it. It feels odd, meaning it. Ever since her dad and Max left she's just barely been able to cross the threshold between existing and actually __living__. Happiness had felt like a mirage that she could see in the distance, but never reach. So she'd stopped trying.

And then, just when she'd given up on it completely, it decided to come to __her.__ In the form of a freckled, cute, dorky, gentle, and unnecessarily self-conscious photographer.

Life really is strange, sometimes.

"I'm glad." Rachel's smile is as bright as the light emanating from her. "Max is...something else."

"You were my angel, Rachel. But Max...Max is my goddess." She always had been, whether she'd wanted to admit it or not.

"If you ever start up a cult dedicated to worshiping her, do me a favor and name me as a head priestess posthumously." Rachel grins, amused.

"Sure, but don't get jealous just because I get to be her mortal lover. That's a step up from head priestess in the hierarchy."

They both stare at each other, then break out in simultaneous smirks. She's missed this. Part of her wishes she could stay.

But it's a small part, and the rest knows that it has somewhere else to be.

Rachel must know too. With careful tenderness she places her hands on the sides of Chloe's face and pulls her head down while simultaneously raising her own. Even still she must be on the tip pf her toes. Her lips make contact with Chloe's forehead, filling it with warmth and lingering before pulling back slightly. By this point the light is so bright that she has to close her eyes.

"I'll be watching you two." Rachel whispers into her ear.

"Perv." She whispers back.

The laughter that fills her ears is heavenly.

When she wakes, the sound of it is still ringing inside of her head. She brings a hand up to her face, wiping away the warm tears before they can streak down onto Max, whose head is resting on her collarbone.

She falls back asleep to the sound of Rachel in her ears, and the feeling of Max in her arms.


	12. Selling Price

"So—to sum up points one through one hundred and twenty-seven on my bullet list, as well as the information presented on figures 1a through 13b—when the time comes, you should totally save Chloe."

The other Max, settled in the second to last booth in the Two Whales Diner, slowly raised her hand.

"Yes? Is there something you need me to go through again? The section on make-out sessions, perhaps?"

"Um, that's okay. The first four times were enough."

"Well, it's a __really__ important point. But go on. What's on your mind?"

"...where are we?"

She blinked. "Huh. You know, you're the first Max I've met that has actually asked. I didn't when I was here...but, y'know. In your shoes. Before I made my choice. Anyway...that's actually up for debate. I used to think this whole thing was just a super creepy nightmare from the back to back rewinds. But then, a couple months ago, I met someone who changed my mind. Chloe and I happened to run into her when we went to revisit the Arcadia Bay Lighthouse. Nice enough girl, but from what she let slip she has daddy issues that eclipse Chloe's by a mile...I don't know how, but she took one look at me and...and I could just tell she __knew.__ Started talking about places that connected other timelines and universes. That's what I've come to believe this place is—a nexus point between all the timelines and universes we created."

"How did you get here, then?"

"Well, I'm not quite sure myself. I just remember that, right before falling asleep one night, I was feeling really resentful about my experience here. All I'd had shoved down my throat was how I had ruined everyone's life by using my powers and that Chloe didn't really care. At that point I didn't even know I was going to be forced to make a choice, but it's obvious now that this nightmare wants to steer us toward one in particular. I don't know about you, but to me that seems really fucking __unfair__. So, back to the point...I fall asleep, and next thing I know I'm here. Well, once I realized where I was and took care of...uhm...anyway, I decided to take advantage of the opportunity and even the playing field. The powers that be want to tell us what we stand to lose by saving Chloe? Fine. I'll tell us what we stand to __gain__. Among the most important: make-out sessions. There's a reason I went over them four times."

Her counterpart blinked once slowly, all the while tapping out random beats against the tabletop with her fingertips. After a couple moments, her eyes darted to the binder she'd set beside her in the booth.

"Do I get to keep the photo album?" Other Max asked, cheeks aflame.

She smiled. Ah, the photo album. Her most effective selling point. It was truly her masterpiece as a photographer. How could it not be, considering her subject?

"Wouldn't you rather make your own? Doesn't looking through it give you... _ _ideas__?" If all Maxes had a muse, it would be Chloe Price. Her hips alone could inspire divine artistic inspiration.

She grinned as the already reddened cheeks of her latest guest darkened, spreading until even her ears were a brilliant scarlet.

"Max!"

Right on cue, Chloe stormed in. She had to fight the instinct to instantly jump her. This wasn't __her__ Chloe, after all.

"Perfect timing!" She chirped. "I'm afraid we'll soon be parting ways, Max. Remember everything I've told you. __Especially__ bullet points three, twenty-seven, forty-two, and ninety-nine." She silently mouthed 'make-outs' as dramatically as possible. "I'll get out of your hair and let Chloe tell you how she feels. If you ever figure out how to get back here, bring me some of your own pictures for the album!"

With a final wave, she ventured back into the stockroom.

* * *

"Good news, Max! Another successful sale!" She announced cheerfully.

"Mrrnmphn!"

"Oh, do you have something to say? Also, it's time for lunch. Here are some pancakes." She set the plate down on the cardboard box in front of her doppelganger, and then proceeded to carefully remove the duct tape covering her lips.

"First of all," Maxine said "It's Maxine. __Never__ Max. Second, you can't keep me tied up back here forever. I __will__ get out eventually, and once I do I'm going to go back out there an—mmmmph."

With one clean movement she reapplied the tape and took back the plate.

"No pancakes for you until you learn to stop channeling Victoria."


End file.
